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“What?”
I thought I’d seen Patrick’s intensity. It had only been a taste. Anger coiled his body, filling him up until it smoked from his skin.
“Him?” Alexis whispered, her doe eyes huge. “He’s the guy?”
“My room — someone trashed it.” My voice dropped. “It has to be Dexter, he has a key.”
My sister took the bundle of sweats from me. “I’ll go change.” Glancing from me to Patrick, she went into the bathroom and closed the door.
Patrick stalked down the hall to my bedroom. He halted abruptly on the threshold, taking in the wreckage. The mess of clothes and drawers, the ripped drawing. When he sawWHOREscrawled on my mirror, his eyes slitted.
He turned to face me. “You were stashing your moneyhere?”
I nodded, suddenly sheepish. “Except what I spent on utilities and — other expenses.”
“Goddammit, why didn’t you put it in the bank?”
“I should have! But I wanted to see it. I wanted to — touch it. To know it was really mine. To know I had the fucking willpower to keep it from slipping through my fingers like I’ve always done. Go ahead, call me stupid. You can’t hurt me any more than you already have.”
A deep flush spread across Patrick’s cheeks. For the first time, I was seeing him embarrassed.
“I would never call you stupid.”
“Thanks. I feel much better now.”
He came up close and rested his hands on my shoulders. “Jesus. You worked so hard for it.”
I looked away. “You think I just did it for the money? It was never only about the money.” His hands were hot on my shoulders, burning through the raincoat. “Andyouworked so hard for it. You said you couldn’t afford me. How’d you even save that much? What were you doing?”
“Babe…” The way the pet name slipped out, I knew he hadn’t planned to say it. “It’s not my money. It’s yours. You earned it.”
“Please don’t.”
He cupped my chin, his eyes flickering.
“I had a fantasy about you tonight,” I went on. “You ran after me when I left your place, and — you hugged me. You just gave me a hug.”
“Do you really want that?” He looked so surprised that my heart cracked.
“Yes.”
He pulled me into his arms. I held him tight and buried my face in his wet T-shirt. The back of my raincoat crumpled in his hand.
“Christina,” he whispered, stroking my hair. As he rubbed his knuckles against my cheek, his ring moved over my skin, oddly soothing.
“Why didn’t you answer your door?”
He tensed in my arms. “Because you don’t want me. You think you do, but you don’t.”
“Great. Next time I want to know what I’m truly thinking, I’ll consult you.”
Brusquely, he cleared his throat and held me back by the shoulders. “What’s with your window?” My curtains thrashed in the wind, framed by my stubbornly shining twinkle lights.
“I opened it when you came over, to make you feel at home. The thief took off the screen. And yes! I should have closed it when I left. I was a little distracted by the fact that someone had just —” I hugged my elbows, staring at the ripped sketch over my desk — “crushed my heart under his foot.”
Patrick flinched. “You think your ex did this?”
“Who else? I saw him today. He said he was going to destroy my future.”
